But I Didn't
by Cookyie
Summary: She was getting married and it wasn't to me. If angst is not your thing, I would not recommend reading. Intended as a one shot.


A/N: First attempt at Rizzles just because. I own nothing!

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Oh Christ, she was beautiful.

I stood up there, the first person on her left hand side in that coveted spot of the maid of honor. I only had eyes for her. For today, I had no idea who was on her right hand side. He was a faceless mannequin for all I cared.

What I did know, however, was that it wasn't me. It wasn't me standing on her other side. Yes, I was standing next to her. But I was only standing next to her as an accessory. Nobody important.

She was a vision, let me tell you. An absolute vision in that white gown. She had dragged me all over the city, hunting for that perfect dress. That dress that would fit her so well, it was like God himself made sure that that cloth fit her. Like he had planned it for her from birth. Oh, we found it alright.

She asked me how it looked when she stepped out. God, I couldn't even breathe when she lifted that curtain. I had to take a step back. Maybe two. I was so blown away by the absolute beauty that she was. I forgot about all the stores she had dragged me to. I forgot how tired I was. How sore I was. Everything. She was hesitant about it, because she thought maybe it was too tight.

No. It was just right.

Off the shoulders, with that v line just dipping down _just_ barely enough so you could get a hint of what was there without giving away the whole shebang. Her hair fell perfectly around her bare shoulders. The dress hugged her waist, made her look even more petite than she actually was. And the rest of it, well it was just flowing. A couple sequins here and there, but not so much that it would've blinded people in the sun.

Just enough to attract attention. Not that she needed it. Her very essence was more than enough. I could've sworn there was a ring of light all around her, like she was too perfect to be viewed upon by human eyes. I thanked the heavens for bestowing on me the right to see her first in the dress. She had been smiling shyly, like there was anything to be shy about. She had to ask me a couple times how it looked before I found the right words to come out of my mouth.

She asked me if I was sure, and I nodded mutely, but forcefully. It had definitely been the right one. And with the way her groom was looking at her now and a couple of the other guests, it only proved even more so that it was the one.

The dress was right. This church was right. The guests were right.

There was just that one thing that was wrong.

I wasn't next to her in the way I was supposed to be.

She was getting married. And it wasn't to me.

And as the officiant spoke on about the wedding nuptials, dangerously approaching the part where the couple would officially seal their union, I found it hard to breathe. I couldn't tell what it was. Was it the vision of her so angelic? Was it the fact that I was about to lose her forever?

I focused in on her face, streaming with tears, beaming so happily at her groom. I glanced at her parents behind her, though they weren't often the emotional ones, it was clear that they were happy for their daughter.

This was it, I thought. The moment had come. And as the officiant asked the two if they would officially take each other as husband and wife, I could swear I heard the death knoll playing as a soundtrack in the back of my mind.

This was it.

Once they sealed it, she would be a married woman. And I prided myself on being an ethical person. I would never seek to violate that holy sanctity. Once it was official, it was done.

They said the magic words. Both of them. His voice nearly cracked as he uttered the two words. She—well she stayed strong, like she always had been. And as soon as the words left her mouth, I wanted to scream. But I didn't.

I wanted to throw the fucking bouquet I was holding at the officiant. I wanted to rip this hideous but lovely bridesmaid dress off. Rip it off until I was wearing nothing. Until I was bare. But I didn't. Instead, as I watched the new married couple kiss and seal the deal, I wiped away the tears. The tears that I couldn't hold in any longer. Everybody else was crying too. Everybody cries at wedding.

But I wonder how many of them was crying for the same reason I was.

As she turned around, prepared to head down the aisle, we met eyes. I attempted a smile. I might have mouthed the word _"Congratulations"_. I don't know. I wanted to do a million things right then. I wanted to break them apart. Break their hands apart. I wanted to grab her by her arm, sweep her off her feet and run out the side door and never look back. But I didn't.

For that brief second, I imagined our future together. We would've had four kids. It had to be an even number so nobody would feel left out. Two boys and two girls, if possible. But I would've been happy to have any kid, especially with her. It wouldn't have mattered, as long as they were ours. We would've had the big house. That big house with a giant lawn, so everybody could roll around in the grass.

We would've had family game nights. We would've gone to games. Concerts. Everything.

But then she gave me a tearful grin, and the moment passed. That dream passed. That urge passed. Instead, as I watched their retreating backs, with everybody on their feet hooting and hollering in celebration, I wondered how much longer I would be able to stick around.

I wanted to leave. I wanted to run. Right now. It was over. I wanted to collapse in a heap, sobbing on the floor, because I had lost the one person that I wanted to live for. I wanted to give up.

No.

I couldn't.

I had to tell her.

So I waited. I waited all throughout the reception. She was thanking people left and right, making the rounds to all the guest tables. It seemed like an eternity. When she had finally finished and returned to the head table, before it was time for the speeches, I leaned over to her.

"Can I talk to you?"

She gave me sideways glance, curious and attentive.

"What is it?"

I looked around us. Her groom was talking to his best man. The other bridesmaids were twittering away about some of the other groomsmen.

"Can we talk outside? In your dressing room?"

She finished the bite she was chewing and nodded. I'm sure the food had been delicious. She picked it out herself. But I had felt like I was eating piles of sand.

"Sure. Let's go."

And like the good friend she was, and oh, how much of an understatement that was, she got up and left her wedding reception. Simply because I had asked her.

I let her enter the room first, before following her in and closing the door. She sat herself down in one of the armchairs immediately.

"I'm exhausted. Thank you for the brief respite."

No problem. Wait, I hadn't said that out loud. "No problem," I croaked.

"Now what is it you wanted to talk about?"

She removed her heels, her devastating heels. Those heels that I probably would have keeled over if I had tried to walk in them. The heels that made her look like a damn model who was ready to strike and kill at any moment.

This was it. She was looking at me. I was looking at her.

This was the moment to tell her.

To tell her that she needed to stop all of this. That she needed to come with me, right now. So we could run away. Run away to some place where nobody would find us. Where nobody could follow us. So she could be mine and mine alone. Not some faceless mannequin's.

And although it only seemed like a couple seconds, my brain slowed itself down. I could feel my heart pumping. It was pumping furiously to make sure all that blood reached my brain. It was a useful organ, she would've told me. It made sure that we stayed alive.

But right now, it felt like it was about to shatter. I wanted to rip it out. Present it to her, but not in a gruesome manner. But just show her how broken it must've been because she didn't stop this. Because she went through with marrying somebody else who wasn't me.

No.

I couldn't wreck her. I couldn't make things difficult for her. I couldn't ruin this for her. What was I even thinking, pulling her into this room on her very _wedding day_ to declare my love for her? I wanted to tell her right then. I wanted to tell her "I love you" and never look back. But to think about how many lives would be ruined through that sentence, that one selfish sentence, just so I could fix mine? How self-centered, I realized in that moment.

No.

I didn't.

I couldn't.

So I shrugged. A tiny motion, but it took all my energy. "I just wanted to tell you congratulations in private. So it's special, you know."

"Awwww," she said. She hopped out of her chair, quickly now that she had removed her heels. She reached out with both her arms, enveloping in the tightest hug that any human could ever give. And as my arms instinctively raised to go around her waist, I was so scared that I would never let her go in that moment.

I put so much emotion into that hug. All the years of frustration. All the years of love for her. All the anger. All the sadness. I wonder if she was able to read it.

She must have not gotten it, because she pulled away and looked me in the eye. The tears were threatening to slip out again and I felt like a giant baby who couldn't control my emotions. I let go of her waist so very reluctantly and clenched my fists by my side.

"Thank you for everything. I couldn't have gotten this far without you." She paused for a moment and searched my eyes. As I locked eyes with her, it felt like she was searching my soul. Like she could see every secret I was hiding. The one secret that I had locked so deep, so deep that I wasn't sure it was still there anymore. I wonder if she saw.

She opened her mouth, about to say something else when there was a knock on the door. She looked over my shoulder and I turned to see who it was. One of the bridesmaids, some old school friend of hers from way back when, poked her head in.

"Hey! He's about to make his speech to you. You don't want to miss this. Come on!" The bridesmaid waved her hand brusquely.

I felt a kiss on my cheek. Naturally, my hand raised of its own accord and felt the spot. A whisper in my ear. Her breath hot against my ear.

"I'll always be yours, though." I whipped my head around to look at her, so fast I almost got whiplash. She smiled. She had no idea what I took that sentence to mean. I know what she had meant it as. She thought that I was scared that I was going to lose her as my friend. She wanted to make it clear that she would always be my friend. That she would always be there for me.

I had no doubt about that. But now it was going to impossibly hard to be her friend. Knowing that there was no way she would ever be truly mine. I couldn't say anything in response.

The bridesmaid clucked her tongue impatiently. After a fluttering and heels-putting-on, she was gone, in a white flash.

And finally, I was truly alone. Truly alone to experience whatever it was I was experiencing.

I finally gave in to my urges and sank to the floor, sobbing silently, lest anybody was nearby.

It was like a movie—flashbacks in my head of all our memories. Me teaching her how to shoot my gun. Her forcing me to do yoga.

Going to that stupid mud bath thing together. Running the marathon and bursting through our family's makeshift finish line. Staying at her house when I had nightmares. Countless others. They all flashed by.

That was the past.

And now the future—the future that we'll never have. No longer would I be the person she called if she needed something. No longer would I be the person listed as her emergency contact. No longer would I be the person to comfort her. To hold her when she was sad. When she was ill.

I wasn't going to be the person to grow old together with her, in the same house. In the same bed. We wouldn't whisper good night to each other in bed. We weren't going to have children together. We weren't going to raise them together. We wouldn't hold hands and walk in the park together. We wouldn't have family game nights. We wouldn't go to sporting events together. She wouldn't drag me to concerts or ballet performances.

We wouldn't celebrate our wedding anniversaries together. I wouldn't come home to her, and she wouldn't come home to me.

Maura would never be mine. Really, really mine.

I could've told her, maybe.

But I didn't.

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A/N: Because I felt like angst. All unbeta-ed, by the way. So my apologies for any mistakes because I mostly typed this out in one sitting.


End file.
